For Love of Magic, For Magic of Love
by Mistress Dawnstar
Summary: Would you commit the ultimate sin? What if by doing so you may save the man you love? What is the price of your soul? Based on fairy tale Princess in Disguise. Please R and R. UPDATED
1. Prologue

**For Love of Magic, For Magic of Love**

**By Mistress Dawnstar**

**Summary:** Princess Anoira had everything a girl could want, a loving father, a title, wealth, power, and magical talent. She thought she was the luckiest girl on earth, until she discovered that her father planned on marrying her. Based loosely on the Grimm fairy tale Princess in Disguise.

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**Prologue**

He was the picture of weary dejection. He sat, head clutched in his hands, on a blue velvet covered bench beside a massive, intricately carved door. His fine robes were wrinkled with wear and hang much too loosely on his frame. A golden circlet hung lopsidedly on his head. His once thick, raven black hair was now liberally shot though with premature white. The shadows under his eyes and the hollowness of his cheek bespoke of far too many sleepless nights and skipped meals.

The door creaked softly open and a bearded man in the robes of a healer exited. The man's head snapped up. Desperate hope waged with pain in his dark blue eyes. "What news?" he croaked hoarsely.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. We did our best. She is failing too fast." The healer's velvety voice was thick with sympathy and pity.

The King, for that's what he was, uttered a cry of anguish and buried his head in his hands once more.

He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and raised up his dull gaze once again. "She's been asking for you. She wants to see you again before…"

He nodded dully. "I understand."

He stood stiffly and entered the still open doorway. His eyes were immediately drawn to the figure, a woman, lying in the large canopy bed in the middle of the room. He strode quickly to the bed and knelt beside it, taking one of the woman's hands and gently clasping it in his own. "Lysa" He breathed.

The woman, Lysa, turned towards her husband and managed a wan smile. The illness had been cruel to her. Her famed creamy skin was now pallid and clammy. Her luscious black hair had turned prematurely gray. Her cheeks where shrunken in, throwing her cheekbones into sharp relief. Her green eyes, perhaps the only remaining fragment of her great beauty was over-bright with fever. Her lips parted. "My love, I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. You can still recover. You'll be alright." The last came out in almost a sob.

"No, my time is up. I am gifted strongly with the visions, you know that. I knew it was to be this way years ago." The woman's whispers were barely discernable.

"Why did you not tell me?" The reply held a tone of anguish.

"And force you to bear the burden, along with everything else." A laughed escaped her lips and quickly turned to a cough that racked her entire body. "No, I could not do that to you, or the kingdom." She whispered when she rested quietly once more.

"Don't try to speak."

"No, I must. My time is short. There was one other…" Another bout of coughing interrupted her words. "Other vision. Of you, your future." She gasped.

"My dear, try to get some rest. You can tell me this later, when you're rested." He glanced behind him. "Physician, come quickly!"

"No, let me speak. I saw…I saw…it was your wedding…you must promise me." She wheezed between the coughs that came with increasing velocity.

"What is it that you want me to promise?"

"Don't…"

"I will never marry again. I will not forsake you." He exclaimed.

The woman shook her head, but even that slight effort was enough to leave her gasping. "No…you are king…you need…need a queen…she who is to be your bride…you must promise…never… promise me…choose she who is…like me…promise me." Her feverish green eyes seemed to burn into his and her grip on his hand was as strong as iron.

What did she mean? What was it that he had to promise? Of course! She had asked him to choose a woman who was like her. "I promise that if I wed again, it only be to a woman who is like you in every way." He said firmly. "Now, my dear, you must get some rest." He extricated his hand from her grip and beckoned to the healer who now stood beside him. "Get her something to help her sleep. She needs to rest."

"No! Promise me…" The rest was lost in a long bout of coughing. Her body convulsed violently with each attack. On last spasm shook her body and then she was still…forever. Even as she died, one last tortured thought flitted through her head. :_Anoira, forgive me_:

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**A/N:** I know this is a really short chapter, but I hope I've given you a taste of the story. As always, please read and review. 


	2. Ch 1: Be careful what you promise

**For Love of Magic, For Magic of Love**

**By Mistress Dawnstar**

**Summary:** Princess Anoira had everything a girl could want, a loving father, wealth, rank, andmagical talent, but even her father became a little too loving, she was forced to flee her kingdom and seek refuge as kitchen maid in a nearby kingdom.

**A/N:** As promised, here's a longer chapter.

Thanks to Angel of Despair and aureusangel for reviewing. I'm glad that you guys like the story.

As always, the review button is the writer's best friend. Please contribute. Criticism welcomed.

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**Ch. 1 **– **Be Careful What You Promise...**

"Anoira, where are you?" The voice, belonging to a blond woman in her late thirties, sounded impatient and exasperated. "Where in the kingdom did that child wander off to?" She muttered under her breath as she turned down yet another garden path.

"Oh, one of these days, I'm going to sit her down and…" The rest of the sentence ended in such a long string of threats and imprecation that a listener, had there been any, would have been greatly impressed at the woman's creativity and distinctly worried for the hapless Anoira.

It was mid-afternoon. The golden sun shone gently over the luscious and well-cultivated palace gardens. It was the height of summer. The flowers were at the zenith of their loveliness. Busy bees buzzed contentedly around the opened blooms. However, the beauties of the gardens were lost of the woman, who charged down the path with firm purpose in her step.

She made a right turn, and passed a couple of blooming rose bushes. "Anoira, whe–. Oh, there you are." She stopped, placed her hands on her hips, and glared at the young occupant of a small stone bench, tucked and half-hidden behind the rosebushes.

"Well, your highness, what have you to say for yourself. I've been looking for you for hours."

The young woman glanced up and met the woman's scowling gray eyes with her calm green ones. Though barely past her eighteenth birthday, Anoira's beauty was already a wonder to behold. In addition to a pair of clear emerald eyes, she possessed a graceful figure, flawless skin, and delicate facial features. Add her thick mane of luscious black hair and it isn't surprising that she is considered one of the most eligible women in the realm. Her beauty rivals even that of her famous mother, who has been dead now for more than fifteen years, and whose exact likeness her daughter bears. "And now you've found me." She replied calmly.

"What are you doing?" The woman demanded, staring accusatorily at the small cloth bag held in Anoira's hands.

"Feeding the fairies." Anoira replied as she reached into the bag for another handful of breadcrumbs.

"You told the servants that you were involved in danger magical activity."

"And so I am. Fairies definitely qualify as magical and as for danger, have you ever been bitten by one? They may be small, but they're vicious when provoked and their bites always take twice the time to heal."

"Oh…" The woman threw up her hand in exasperation and glanced upwards as if looking for patience. "You're impossible."

The Princess ignored the gesture. "So what did you want me for, Lady Byntina?"

"Not me, your father. He wanted to speak with you. Said it was urgent." The lady replied shortly.

"Why didn't you send the servants to do the searching?"

"You as good as told them that you were practicing magic and you know how ordinary people are about magic. They like it because it's useful, but they'd as soon stay away when someone is practicing it."

"You don't have any trouble with it."

"You forget; I was your mother's closest friend when she was alive. I saw enough magic to if not get comfortable with it, at least to get used to it. Now, come on, you're already late."

"Very well." Anoira dusted off her hands and with a quick flick of her hands, sent the sack back to her bedroom. She stood up and stepped onto the path. The two women turned and headed towards the palace.

"Did father tell you what he wanted me for?" Anoira asked curiously.

"I don't know. He said it was of great importance to your future, so I suspect that he wants to discuss your marriage. About time, I'd say. Most girl your age are already mothers." Byntina replied, still sounding cross.

"Why, Byn. You aren't still angry with me, are you?" The princess asked in a teasing tone.

Byntina took one look at the younger woman's too innocent face and barely suppressed smile and capitulated. "Oh, bother, I never could stay angry at you for long. Oh, stop that, you tease. You're just like your mother." She smiled sadly at the memory. "She would have been proud of you. You are exactly like her; the same face, the same spirit, and the same talent."

"I've heard that she was a good woman."

"And so she was, the best woman and the best queen that we could have had. If it hadn't been for that fever…well, enough with this dwelling in the past." She straightened and gained a brisk and businesslike air. "Where were we? Oh, yes, your marriage."

"I don't want to be married or if I do, I want it to be a love match, like that of my parents. I refuse to be used as a political pawn and sold to the first suitor who has enough money, power, or influence to satisfy my father or his councilors." Anoira said with a hint of steel.

"Oh, I'm sure it won't come to that. Your father does dote upon you. I'm sure he'll let you have your pick of suitors. Surely you can find at least one that you'd like."

"That's just it. I don't want men paraded in front of me like livestock and being forced to pick out one like a farmer at market. Love is something that must be allow to take its own course, and not forced."

Byntina sighed, "I'm sorry, Anoira, but you're loyal. That means sacrificing love for duty. That's how it has always been done. Your parent were an exception."

Anoira shook her head stubbornly, but said nothing. After a few moments of silence, she said, "You know who really needs to be married – father. I've read history; it's not healthy for a country to be without a queen for so long. I know he still misses mother, but he's still eligible, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ten kingdoms since ours is so prosperous. If you want to talk duty, isn't it his duty to marry and provide this kingdom with both queen and alliance."

The older woman sighed again, "It's not that easy. He may be eligible, but it is difficult to find a woman of sufficient rank that fills the requirements. You know that by law, at least one of the rulers of the realm has to have the mage talent. Since he does not, his spouse must possess it. While there are a few sorceresses that might suit, he has raised other objections."

"You mean what he says about never marrying a woman who does not look exactly like mother. I think it's a crazy idea."

"Anoira! He is still your father! Show some respect."

"But it's true. Everybody knows it. I can't believe mother would have asked it of him, if she's as good as everyone says she is."

"Well, she was delirious with fever and it is possible that she wasn't entirely lucid at the time."

"Well, I can forgive that, but father is the fool for going along with it."

"He did promise her upon her death bed and that's not a promise that he can break easily, even if he didn't love her as well as he does. Men in love are often fools. Anyway, here we are." Lady Byntina paused in front of the pair of huge doors that led into the main throne room. "Ready?"

Anoira nodded.

"Announce us." The lady ordered the footman standing beside the closed doors.

The man, moving with all the dignities of his training and his office, solemnly opened up the great doors, marched up the carpeted aisle to within five paces of the throne, dropped onto one knee and cried, "Her Royal Highness, Lady Anoira le Sfonleria, Princess and Heir of Reneli and Her Grace, Lady Byntina le Austebyn, Duchess of Donedra."

Dark-haired King Dwendyn of Reneli, seating upon his golden throne at the head of the hall nodded. "Show them in." Though in his early forties, he still cut an impressive figure. His hair was only lightly silvered and his dark blue eyes sparkled with an inner fire. A small, half-smile played on his lips as he watched the two women enter the hall.

The two ladies stopped in front of the throne and curtsied deeply and murmured respectfully, "Your Majesty." They straightened and faced the King. Lady Byntina's eyes were fixed expectantly upon the King's face, but Anoira's eyes wandered to examine the physiognomies of the two men who stood beside the throne – the King's chief advisors. She was reassured by the sour expression on their faces. Had the King agreed to arrange a marriage for her, like they've clamored for, they would have been happy. So whatever it was her father wanted, at least it wasn't that. Anoira's attention darted back to her father just in time to hear him begin to speak.

"Do you know why we've summoned you, Anoira?" He asked.

"No, your majesty." She replied evenly.

"We wish to announce some happy news that we think will be greatly to the benefit of our kingdom."

"Indeed."

"Yes, our kingdom has been for too long without a queen. Though we will always remember our beloved queen, we have decided that it is our duty to wed again."

Anoira smiled for the first time since entering the room. "That is happy news indeed! Who is the lucky woman?"

The King smirked. "She stands before us."

An perplexed expression crossed Anoira's face. Lady Byntina? She had no magical gift, which clearly disqualified her. Did someone come in behind them? She turned her head around to check. Nope, nobody. But that only left…oh, dear god.

"Indeed." She said flatly. "I don't believe I comprehend you. Do enlighten me."

"We have chosen you to be our happy bride and future queen. Our wedding will take place two month from today."

Anoira shot an incredulous glance at the advisor on the King's left side, a man by the name of Lord Corven whom she has always liked as well as respected. Lord Corven replied with a tired and resigned shrug. It was obvious that she'd get no help there.

"Father," She said, forcing herself to stay calm and stressing the word. "Have you forgotten something? I'm your daughter. I don't qualify."

"That is immaterial." The King replied coolly. "You are a sorceress, which fulfils the legal requirement and the picture of our beloved deceased queen, which fulfils our requirement. Indeed you are the only woman that we could ever marry. Our kingdom needs a queen."

Now, Anoira had been born and bred a princess and she knew there were several things that princesses are not allowed to do in public: (a.) scream like a banshee, (b.) gag, (c.) call the king a senile old codger, and (d.) make a scene in public.

As much as she would have like to do any or all of the above, she restrained herself with great effort and said through clenched teeth. "Father, may I speak to you in private?"

"We can think of nothing that you'd have to say that couldn't be said in public." He replied, with that same self-satisfied smirk.

_If he thinks he can make me go tamely along with the idea just by doing that, _Anoira thought grimly, _he's got another thing coming. _She glanced around her and decided that two advisors, one duchess, eight guardsmen, and two footmen did not construe as public.

She took a deep breath and let fly a truly un-princess-like shriek, "Are you crazy! I'm your da-ugh-ter. You idiot! What you are suggesting is in-cest. I can't believe you would even suggest such an idea. What will court say? What will the other nine kingdom do? This folly of yours will destroy us! I won't and never will agree to such a imbecile idea."

"I do not require your agreement, only your obedience. A dutiful daughter will marry where her father tell her." King Dwendyn's eyes glittered dangerously as anger forced him to drop the loyal "we".

"And a dutiful father will never consider incest. The only way I'd attend that wedding is chained and drugged."

"That could be arranged."

Anoira's eyes narrowed dangerously. "The first guard who tries to touch me gets turned into a toad."

"You can't turn my entire army into toads. Sooner or later, you will have exhausted your powers."

"Just watch me."

Duchess Byntina cleared her throat nervously; up until now, she'd been too shocked to do more than just listen, but now with father and daughter ready to declare all out war upon each other, she felt she had to intercede. "Your majesty, her highness is right. Such a move would reflect badly upon us not only in the eyes of the other kingdoms, but also in the eyes of your own subjects."

"The ladies talk sense." Lord Corven urged. "The Princess is well loved by the people and so was her mother. You could provoke an uprising this way."

"Silence!" The King roared. "This is my kingdom. I will have my way." He glowered down at Anoira from his raised throne. "What can I offer you to accept me?"

"Nothing."

"Nonsense," he sneered, "Everyone has a price. All that remains is to find yours. What do you want? Power? Gold? A luxurious wardrobe? All that and more will be yours if you become my queen."

"All that and more will be mine when you die. All the same, I think I'll wait." Anoira replied coolly, knowing that she sounded heartless and not caring.

"Surely there is something. One way or another, you will become mine."

"There is nothing, except…" She hesitated, suddenly struck by a brilliant idea. "Except," she replied with greater confidence. "Three dresses: one as golden as the sun, one as silver as the moon, one as dark as the night sky and studded with the stars. In addition, I require a cloak made from the furs of all the beasts of the land, a mask made with the feathers of all the birds of the sky, and a belt studded with scales from all the fishes in the sea. Then, and only then will I marry you." She smirked triumphantly, knowing that her demands were improbable at the very least, if not completely impossible. She could tell from the approving expressions on the faces of the two advisors and Lady Byntina that they thought so too.

She glanced her father, fully expecting him to admit defeat, but she had a surprise coming.

"Do you mean a piece of fur from every single beast on the land or just one from every type of beast?" He asked, wearing a thoughtful frown on his face.

Anoira stared in shock. "You're not actually serious."

"I've never been more so in my life. After all, a good lover must indulge the whims of his beloved, however outrageous they may be. Answer the question." He replied in silken tones.

"It doesn't matter. It's impossible either way."

"You're a sorceress, my dear. You of all people should know that there is no such things as impossibilities."

"If you think you can use magic, you can give up right now." Anoira said derisively. "There few mages in the kingdom with that kind of power, and the ones who do will never help you, not once I've had a chance to speak with them."

"We'll just see about that. So do we have a deal?"

"We do."

"Good, but first I want a guarantee that you will honor your pledge."

"Fine, get one of your clerks to write up a contract and I'll sign it."

"Do you think me a fool? Never mind, I know that you do, but do you honestly believe that I'd let you off with a promise that flimsy? With your powers, it would be too easy for you to steal it and destroy it. No, I want something more. I want you to swear upon your magic."

Anoira's eyes widened in shock. An oath upon his or her magic is the most binding promise a mage can give. If the mage broke that promise, he or she will lose his or her magic. "I…"

"What's the matter, my dear? I thought you were confident that I can't fulfil your request."

"And I am. Very well, I swear upon my magic that if you fulfil all of my requests exactly, I will marry you."

"Good, good."

Anoira felt her palm go sweaty. She didn't like that smile on her father's face at all.


	3. Ch 2: Sacrifice

**For Love of Magic, For Magic of Love**

**By Mistress Dawnstar**

**Summary:** What would do for the man you loved? What would you sacrifice for him? Would you do the unspeakable for him? What if the only way to save him is to givehim up?

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, it really means a lot to me! For everyone else, please review. Just drop me a little comment, whether good, bad, etc.

**Warning** - The last part of this chapter contains some suggestive language. It's nothing too bad, so the rating doesn't need to be changed, but if you feel uncomfortable about that sort of thing, don't read.

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**Chapter. 2 – Sacrifice**

"I don't believe this." Anoira said dully for the twentieth time. She sat on the edge of her bed with complete disregard to the damaged caused to her most expensive court gown. Formal court clothes are not meant to be sat in, but nothing could be further from Anoira's mind. For you see, she had a bigger problem to worry about.

"I can't believe this. How did he do it? I thought, I knew, everyone knew that what I asked was quite impossible. I don't think that even I could have managed it and I'm an extremely talented sorceress." She said plaintively directing the question to the other two occupants of the room.

Lady Byntina sighed unhappily. They had been going over this for the last two hours and coming no closer to a solution to Anoira's dilemma. "I don't know. I don't think anyone actually expected him to even attempt it, not to mention succeed." She shrugged helplessly.

Anoira scowled fiercely at the wardrobe that was resting innocently in the center of the room. Her hands itched and she wished that she could set the thing on fire, but that would not solve anything.

It was not the wardrobe that had the misfortune of incurring Anoira's ire, but rather its content. Inside the beautifully crafted and carved walnut wardrobe were three fine ball gowns. One was made of spun gold so fine that it was as soft to the touch as the finest silk. Tiny intricate embroidery in white silk complete with seed pearl inlays lined the neck, the sleeves, and the hem. It the afternoon light, it seemed almost to have acquired a soft glow. It truly was a stunning work of art. The next dress is no less amazing, spun out of the purest silver, with tiny light blue dragon embroidery coiling around the sleeves and down the skirt. Delicate gold lace lined the neckline – low and square according to the very latest fashion. Finally, the last dress was the most beautiful of the three, made of blue silk so dark that it could be mistaken for black in the shadows. All over the dress were tiny diamonds, hundreds, thousands of them, so cleverly embedded that from a distance they seem to acquire depth and seem as stars in the midnight sky.

Tucked out of sight behind the three dress where they could not be seen were three further items – a cloak made from the furs of all the creatures of the land, a mask made from the feathers of all the creatures of the air, and a belt made from the skins of all the creatures of the lakes and seas.

Now, Anoira loved pretty clothes as well as any young lady and under normal circumstances would have been delighted to receive such an astonishing addition to her wardrobe. But she saw the dresses for what they really were; they were chains – chains to bind her to a life so distasteful, so disgusting, so impossible that she had to fight hard to keep the bile from rising in her throat. She was sick at the very thought of it.

Lord Corven, the other occupant of the room, who'd thus far been silent cleared his throat and spoke up. "Princess, have you examined the cloak, mask, and belt? After all, the agreement was that he'd used portions of ALL the creatures of the land, sky, and sea. If any is missing…"

"No, my father is too thorough to make a mistake like that." Anoira said, with a slight hysterical edge to her voice. She felt like a wild animal, cornered by the hunter's hounds. "Oh, I can't do this." She cried, "This is completely immoral. Anything would be better than this…this iniquity. I can't believe that father would…he can't…I can't…to bear…" Her words lost all coherency as her body shook with shuddering sobs.

Lord Corven and Lady Byntina exchanged helpless glances. They liked the idea no better than Anoira, but the king had ordered it, so what could they do?

Finally Lady Byntina spoke quietly, "There may be another way. Leave and never look back."

Anoira paused mid-sob. She gazed at Byntina in astonishment. "But I promised."

"So, break your promise. All that would happen would be that you'd forfeit your magic. From my point of view, it doesn't seem that magic has done you much good so far."

Lord Corven cleared his throat hastily. "I assume that you ladies are simply discussing hypothetical possibilities and not any actual plans. If I thought that any part of this conversation was serious, I would be honor bound to report it to my liege lord. Of course, what I don't know, I can't possibly tell him, so if you'll excuse me, I believe that I have some paperwork that I need to get to." He bowed, first to Anoira and then to Lady Byntina. "Good day, Princess, Duchess." With one last, thoughtful glance in the direction of the wardrobe, he turned and left the room.

"But, I've never gone without my magic. What will I do? Where will I go?" Anoira said in a small voice.

"Anywhere; the whole world is out there. You could do whatever you choose." Lady Byntina said, sounding more enthusiastic by the second. "It's perfect. Your father would never imagine that you'd be willing to give up your magic and birthright. You should easily be able to make a clean escape."

"Well…I don't know."

"I thought you said that anything would be better than this." Lady Byntina reminded Anoira gently.

Anoira was silent for a long moment. Finally she said resolutely, "You're right. I'll leave tonight. Can you help me find some commoner's clothe, maybe a maid's uniform or something and some food. And," she added as an afterthought, "A bag. I'm taking these gifts with me. He gave them to me and it'll serve him right if I ran away with them. The cloak will be nice when the weather starts to turn cool and I could always sell the jewels off the dress if I need money."

Lady Byntina nodded, "It'll be more risky, but you've got a point. Alright, I'll get you what you need."

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A few moments later a breathless Lady Byntina returned. "Here," she said, thrusting a bundled of clothe at the princess. "Get dressed. We don't have as much time as I'd thought. I just found out that your father wants your presence at dinner. He'll make his formal proposal then. After dinner you'd be moved to the royal suite and guarded day and night until the wedding, so if you want to get away it'll have to be now, before your maid comes to fetch you." 

Anoira nodded and hastened to undress, cursing the confining court gown and its seemingly thousands of buttons, laces, and ties. Finally, she snarled impatiently, raised a hand, and spoke a single, scintillating word. The gown burst into violet fire and disintegrated. Anoira smiled in grim satisfaction. There was no point in conserving her powers since she's not going to have them for much longer.

She pulled the maid's uniform over her head, making a face at the unfamiliar touch of coarse cloth against her skin. She freed her hair from her braid and taking the ceremonial knife that she kept for mage-workings, hacked it off at her shoulder. Her hair would only slow her down at this point. Beside, few commoners could afford the luxury of long hair. Walking over to the wardrobe, she removed the cloak and draped it around herself, raising the hood around head. Taking some of the ash from the fireplace, she smudged it onto the skin of her face.

She turned to her mirror and regarded her reflection critically. She nodded in satisfaction. In the waning light of the afternoon, only those who knew her personally would have recognized this drab figure as the Princess Anoira.

"Alright, I'm ready." She said turning to Lady Byntina.

"I took some bread, meat, and cheese from the kitchen." Lady Byntina said, handing over a bundle. "I dared not take too much for fear of rousing suspicion, but there should be enough for you to get out of the kingdom if you head west. The next kingdom is onlythirty miles or so in that direction. If you hurry, you should be able to make it in a day or two."

"And the dresses?"

Lady Byntina, "I found something better than a pack." She took out a worn, wooden chest. It was so small that it fit comfortable on the palm of her hand. The wood was slightly warped from age and the metal clasp was badly rusted.

Anoira shot her an incredulous glance. "You must be kidding me."

"No joke. This is enchanted to hold more than the outward appearance indicates and there would be no uncomfortable questions asked if it were to be discovered on your person. Watch."

Anoira felt her jaw drop as she watched the duchess remove the golden dress from the wardrobe and pack it, hanger and all into the tiny chest.

"That's powerful magic." She said finally, "I'm a sorceress and I can tell you that it is not easy to stretch space, nor is it easy to enchant an object and having the spell last. That's the work of a mighty magician. It must be worth a fortune. I can't just take it from you."

"Nonsense," Lady Byntina said serenely as she packed away the other dresses, the mask, and the belt. "What would I do with this? Its appearance is too disreputable for a Duchess, but it should be perfect for the role that you will play. Are you taking anything else? Some money? Jewels?"

Anoira shook her head, "The jewels are property of the kingdom. I'm only taking the dresses because, well, he did give them to me. Besides, it would be too suspicious for a maid to possess fancy jewels or gold coins."

"I thought you'd feel that way, so take these." Lady Byntina held up three small items – a gold ring set with a pale opal, a small golden figurine of a cat licking its paws, and a golden pendant shaped like a peach blossom. "These are gifts from your mother, part of a set of 12." She smiled in remembrance, "I told her that I wished that I knew how it felt to use magic, so she gave me these for my birthday. She embedded a little of her magic in each of the 12, enough for a small spell each. You don't need to be a mage to use these. I've used up 9 of the item; these are the last three and I want you to have them. It would be handy to have a spell or two for emergencies and you could always sell the gold afterwards."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly…"

"Yes, you could." Lady Byntina said firmly. She stepped forwards and embraced the princess. "Your mother would have wanted you to have these and I suspect that you'd put them to better use than I ever could. Now, hurry and go."

Anoira nodded silently, not trusting her tear-choked throat. She embraced the older woman fiercely. She turned and took one last look around her room as if trying to remember every last detail. (As an afterthought, she sent her discarded hair to the same fate as her court gown with a snap of her finger. No point in leaving evidence.)

Then, resolutely, she slipped out her window into the garden.

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She made her way through the palace gardens, keeping to the shadows and infrequently used paths, until she reached the outer wall that encircled the palace. She followed the wall to where she knew a small postern gate laid. 

She was relieved to see only one guard at the gate, a man whom she didn't recognize. With luck, she'd be able to pass as a maid.

Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she swaggered into the view of the guard. "Good evenin' to you, mister." She said, imitating the slovenly speech of a lower servant. "Care to let a poor maid pass to visit her poor, sick, old mother."

The guard took a long hard look at her and then winked. "Nah, you ain't be going to visit no sick mother, a pretty thing like yourself. So, who's the luck bastard?"

Oh good lords! Anoira was thankful that the descending darkness hid her blush. The man thought that she was sneaking out to visit a lover. Oh well, might as well play along.

She winked back. "Now, that'd be telling, that will."

"Well, I ain't supposed to be letting anyone out of this here gate."

"Please mister, as a special favor to me."

"Well, I don't know. His majesty gave special orders that no one is to be allowed out of the palace tonight. 'Fraid that his bride will try to bolt."

"Why would she do that?" Anoira said quickly, momentarily forgetting her faked accent in her sudden panic. She added quickly as she saw the guard stiffen suspiciously. "She's promised, upon her magic, that's what I heard. You think Miss Royal Highness is going to give up her powers, fancy jewels, and pretty clothes. Why she'd starve out there, without all her fancy servants. Heavens forbid that she spoil those pampered hands of hers earning an honest living like us common folks."

Anoira breathed a silent sigh of relief as the guard relaxed. He bought her story.

"Well, I don't know. I could get into an awful lot of trouble, letting you through this here gate. But maybe I could make an exception…if you'll make it worth my while." This time, the wink was decidedly lewd.

Anoira's hands curled into fists as she attempted to stop herself from smacking the man. Imagine even suggesting that she'd…she'd…she was too outraged to even finish the thought. Regretfully, she discarded the idea of turning him into the pig that he was. It wouldn't last once her magic was gone unless she poured a ridiculous amount of effort into the spell. In either case, the palace would discover that she was gone quite a bit sooner than she'd planned.

But she had to get out…somehow.

She forced down her indignation, her dignity, and her anger. She smiled sweetly. "Well, let's see here, mister. You let me go on my little errand and when you get off duty and feel a bit lonesome, ask down at the kitchens for Elsie, and I'll see what I can do to accommodate you. Anoira's smile grew strained towards the end and the only way she could stop herself from inflicting permanent damage on the man was by holding on to the comforting thought that she'd never be back. _I hope you get into trouble for letting me out,_ she thought savagely, _I hope my father will be very, very angry towards you. That'll serve you right. The idea!_

Fortunately, the guard couldn't hear her personal thought. He smirked suggestively and bent to unfasten the gate bar. The gate creaked open. "Well, that's might decent of you. A young, sprightly thing like yourself; it does warm my heart…Hey, you okay there?" Anoira stumbled as she passed the threshold of the gate and would have fallen if the guard hadn't held out a hand to steady her.

Anoira gasped and steadied herself. The moment her foot passed the threshold, her magic, the warm sensation that always lingered underneath her skin was gone. In its place, was an aching, cold emptiness. She trembled; she didn't know that it would be so bad, that she hadrelied on her magic so very much. It was as if she suddenly couldn't see or couldn't feel. She felt the tears well up in her eyes. She couldn't go on like this, she couldn't…and yet what choice did she have. She had to go on.

With great effort, she straightened. "I'm sorry. I must have slipped on a pebble." She said hoping that the shakiness of her voice would be mistaken for the aftereffect of a near fall. "Thanks for your help, mister."

Gathering up the last reserves of her courage and resolve, she squared her shoulders and marched ahead, down the path, into the woods.

She waited until she was out of sight around a bend before breaking down. Her desperate sobs shattered the calm of the forest.

* * *

**AN:** That was a pretty long chapter, for me anyways. I should be able to have the next part up in a week and a half, so watch for it. And in the meantime, please press the blue button in the lower left corner and drop me a line. Also, tell me which summary you like the best. (The one in front of each chapter is slightly different. 


	4. Ch 3: Royal Dilemnas

**For Love of Magic, For Magic of Love**

**By Mistress Dawnstar**

**Summary:** Would you commit the ultimate sin? What if by doing so you may save the man you love? What is the price of your soul?

**Author's Note:** First of all, my apologies. I know I promised that I'd update way before now, but things started to happen in my life and I never found the time. So sorry. Ducks the rotten tomatoes.

That aside, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate it guys! They really inspire me to continue to write, so thanks again. (Answers to select reviews are at the end of chapter.)

Finally, enjoy this chapter!

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

**Ch. 3 – Royal Dilemmas**

"Ouch!" Anoira groaned. She leaned against a nearby tree and gazed forlornly down at her feet. "No one has ever told me that walking would hurt so much." She lamented.

She paused dramatically, as if waiting for an answer. All that she received for her troubles was a raucous birdcall. She sighed, "Well, now I know that the scribes who wrote about the wonders and excitement of adventure were bumbling idiots who obviously had no first-hand experience and therefore had no idea what they were talking about."

She paused and then added sorrowfully, "This is what I get for believing in everything that I read. I must have walked for miles." Her stomach growled as if to underscore her statement.

Anoira clutched her stomach. "Oh, I'm starving and thirsty and hot and tired and sore and…" The pitch of her voice rose into a truly undignified whine. She finally finished her tirade with "…and I want my magic back." She fell silent, leaning against the tree and panting hard (Hey, it wasn't easy to fit her entire rant onto one measly breath).

She would have stayed in that state of self-pity for the entire day if it weren't for a second growl in her stomach, which reminded her of more pressing concerns.

Water first, she decided, and then she'll find a place to eat and sleep. It was safer to sleep during the day and move during the night, since her father would probably have people out looking for her. Despite her self-lamentations, the last thing she wanted was to be brought back to her father.

"Let's see now," she said; it was comforting to hear the sound of her own voice. "According to my geography lessons, this road follows the rivers, so there should be water not too far from here." She perked up her ears and listened. Sure enough, underneath the rustling and sighing forest sounds, there was the faint burbling of water.

Now, all she had to do was to find it. She closed her eyes to visualize a map of the area, for the first time thankful for her stern geography teacher. If she wasn't too lightheaded from hunger and fatigue to remember correctly, then the river should be …um…to her left.

With her eyes still closed, she took a step in the leftward direction…only to run smack-dab into a tree branch. "Ouch!" She groaned and glared at the offending tree, as if it were somehow its fault for growing in her path.

Rubbing the sore spot on her head and cursing under her breath (using words that a princess should not have known), she tried again, this time careful to keep her eyes open and to duck under the branch.

After several more minutes of further effort, she was rewarded by the welcoming sight sparkling water.

"Well, its about time!" Anoira exclaimed. She rushed forward eagerly, paying no attention to the ground underneath her feet – a mistake. As it turned out, Anoira tripped over a mole and went flying into the river.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Yes, a mole, I kid you not.

Call it fate or karma (or maybe just the crazed imagination of the author), but at that very moment, a mole, who'd been innocently tunneling underneath the riverbanks, decided to come up for some fresh air. And the place where the mole popped up just happened to be in front of Anoira's foot as she rushed towards the river.

Now, in real life, something like have one to ten million chance of happening, but unfortunately for the hapless Anoira, she was not in real life, but in a fairy tale where stranger things that a foot to mole collision happen on a regular basis.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

So it was that Anoira was sent flying headfirst into the chilly river water – not a good position to be in, given that she never learned how to swim.

Anoira flailed around wildly, struggling to hold her head above and struggling to escape the swift river current, though her effort did little more than simply tiring herself out. She barely held back a sob of fear and desperation as her water soaked clothes threatened to drag her down. There was nothing she could do but to struggle gamely onwards.

Exhausted, Anoira felt herself being dragged into the depth of the river once more. This time she did not even have the strength to resist. _I'm going to die_, she thought, too tired even to panic. _Some fisherman will find my body someplace down the river. I'll probably not even be recognizable at that point. Fishermen will forever tell the story of the mysterious woman who met her lonely end in this miserable river_…

Anoira's train of morbid thought was suddenly cut short by two brilliant realizations – firstly, her head was still above the water and secondly, her feet were touching solid ground. To her chagrin, Anoira suddenly discovered a crucial fact, the river was not as deep as she thought it was. In fact, she could stand comfortable with the water lapping her chin.

Anoira didn't have time to stand around feeling embarrassed. She was tired from struggling with the river and though the water was not deep, the current was swift and sure. No, she could not afford to stand around the chilly water. Wearily, she floundered to shore and staggered into the shade of a forest giant.

With only her hunger and her practicality keeping her from falling asleep there and then, she began to take stock of herself – no bones broken, muscles sore but still functional, clothing, the uniform and the fur cloak, soaked, ripped, and muddy, but that's fine with the role that she was currently playing, and she wasn't thirsty anymore. All in all, it could have been worse. Her stomach growled once more and her optimistic mood vanished immediately. She was starved.

Speaking of food…her eyes widened in sudden realization. She looked around; she had managed to keep hold of her little pack of belongings and bring it to shore, but to her dismay, all the food – the bread, cheese, and meat – were rendered completely inedible by the river water.

Anoira felt like crying and despite reminding herself that a princess was supposed to be strong and hold back tears, a few soft sobs escaped her. After all, she wasn't a princess anymore, was she? Tears fell like rain, landing on her clothes and mingling with the river water. Anoira had reached the low point of her young life.

Miraculously, the small, battered chest that Lady Byntina had given her had escaped harm. Its contents, including the three dresses, the mask, the belt, and the three golden baubles, were dry and intact.

Clutching this one last treasure, Anoira curled up into a miserable ball, and at last cried herself to sleep.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Your Highness, your father wants you." The speaker was a slender young man with neatly cropped black hair. He was dressed in a simple but well made dark blue tunic and comfortable black pants. The manner in which he spoke was mild and the way that he leaned against the armory door was casual, but the seriousness in his gray eyes belied his nonchalance. His slender hands hung at his side, the ink stains faint, but noticeable, forming a strange contrast to the sword calluses on his palms.

The recipient of the message, a young man of similar age, grunted in reply. He sat on one of the old oaken benches scattered around the room, polishing the sword in his lap. His head was bent in concentration, with his thick mane of yellow hair falling like a curtain around his face, hiding his expression from view.

The man at the door coughed delicately, "He said it was urgent, Your Highness."

"Isn't it always." The man on the bench said resentfully. "And you don't have to be so formal with me, cousin; I get enough of that from my parents and the rest of those dull geezers they consider advisors." He set his sword aside and stood. He was a powerful man, taller and broad shouldered than his cousin. His tunic, stretched tightly across his chest, showed off his muscles to the best advantage as he moved.

Other than a small smile, the man at the door kept his expression neutral. "Since it was your father, the King, who sent the message, I thought it best to relay it correctly." Tactfully, he decided not to comment on the last part.

The prince swiped his hair away from his face, revealing a pair of baby blues eyes and rugged good looks. He flashed his companion a quick smile, one that has many of the young ladies at court swooning in his wake. "Well, what does he want, Lanston? What is it that I've done now?"

The young man at the door, Lanston being his name, shrugged lightly. "I'm not sure, although it could be a number of things. Just this week, you have already…"

The prince cut him off hastily, "That last was a rhetorical question. I don't need a lecture on my duties as a prince, since I'm probably on my way to one, right now." He squared his shoulders. "Well, I might as well get it over with." He strolled out the doorway and into the halls, his stride firm and determined.

Lanston fell into step beside his cousin. "You know, Casp, if you'd just pay a little more attentions to your royal duties, you'd seriously cut back on the number of talks you have with your parents."

"I do pay attention to my duties. I attend petitioner's court every week, don't I?"

"Where you never pay attention."

"Of course, I do."

"Fine. Name one decision that the King made in the last session."

"Um…well…"

"You could at least pretend to be paying attention." Lanston said in a long-suffering tone.

"I do."

"Right. Last time, you put your head down and went to sleep. You snored through the entire thing. Real subtle."

The Prince appeared chagrined but unrepentant. "I couldn't help it. Some of the speakers were right old bores and they never talk about anything important. Just last week, one man rambled on for an hour about the price of wheat and the second one took even longer to complain about his neighbor's pigs. I can't even begin to keep it all in my head."

Lanston sighed, "It is important. The first was a farmer. The land in his area didn't do so well this year and his taxes are due. At this point, the taxes would really hit the families in that area hard and could possibly ruin them. He petitioned for tax relief. The second petition concerns a long time feud between two families, a very bloody feud, I might add. They've held onto an uneasy peace for a couple of years now and it is important to ensure that the fighting doesn't resume."

Prince Caspian grinned sheepishly. "Was that really it? And here was I thinking that they were too cheap to build fences."

Lanston groaned and buried his face in his hands. "And it's tactless remarks like those that get you into even more trouble." His voice was slightly muffled by his hands.

"What tactless remarks? I'm hurt. I never make tactless remarks."

"Oh? What about the time when you told Lady Talsina that her lapdog looked like a skinless weasel and offered to shoot it to put it out of its misery."

"Hey, it was the truth!"

"What about the time you told Lady Giselle that each of her daughters were uglier than the last and that you wouldn't touch them with a ten foot pole?"

"That woman is so determined that I should marry one of her daughters that she's scary. I had to say something to get her off my back."

"What about the time when you told the ambassador from Roth that the priceless painting that he was presenting as a gift to your father looked like it had been drawn by his six-year-old grandson."

"Oops, did I really say that out loud?"

Lanston scowled suspiciously at his cousin's too innocent face. "Don't joke around. This is serious. We almost went to war over that incident."

Caspian sighed, "I suppose that you're right. I am really trying, but, by the gods, I'm just not made out for this ruling business. It should have been you who was born the heir, not me. I mean, you actually like doing this stuff, you know listening to people's problems and deciding how to make everyone happy." He smiled brightly as a sudden thought hit him. "Hey, why don't I abdicate? That would make you the heir. Since you've been doing my job for me ever since I can remember, it wouldn't really make that much difference."

Lanston looked horrified, "And hoist all those gold-digging mothers and daughters off on me? Not a chance." His face regained its serious cast. "Really, you were the one who was born heir. You have a duty to the kingdom. You can't just abdicate for a silly reason like that."

The prince sighed again, "I know, but you really would make a better king than I would. Oh well, wistful thinking. So, what does my father want again?"

Lanston shook his head. "I don't know, but are you sure you didn't do anything particularly awful lately? I've never seen the King so angry."

"Um…is it worse than the time when I flood the west wing of the palace so that my friends and I could replay historical sea battles?"

"Worse."

"Oh, shit." Caspian cursed as a sudden thought struck him.

"What do you mean by that?" Lanston asked, sounding suspicious.

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all." Caspian said airily, "Oh, look, we're here. Let's go in and get it over with."

With a frown and reminder to himself to press his cousin further at a more convenient time, Lanston knocked lightly on the door that they had arrived at, the door to the king's private study.

A muffled "Come in" issued from within. Lanston eased open the door. "Your majesty, it's me and Caspian." He opened the door further so that Caspian could pass through.

King Philip put away the petition he had been studying and focused his piercing blue gaze on his son and nephew. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for Lanston to close the door.

"Caspian, do you know what you've done?" He asked coldly.

Caspian squirmed under his father's stern gaze. For some reason, his father could always make him feel like a misbehaving child. "Um…no?" He offered.

"Well, let me jog your memory. This morning, a certain Lady Lydien paid me a visit with some rather interesting news. Want to guess what that was?"

"Um…no?"

"Well, it appears that I'm about to become a grandfather, even before my son becomes a husband." King Philip slammed his fists down on the arms of his chair, making both the young men jump. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"You got Lydien pregnant?" Lanston hissed to Caspian. "What happened to the protection charm that my father gave you?" Lanston's father was not only the king's young brother, but also the royal mage. "It should have prevented you from getting any of your little dalliances pregnant."

"I ah…lost it last week when I was hunting." Caspian whispered back, keeping his voice quiet enough so that his father couldn't hear him. "I was going to ask for another one, but I forgot. I didn't think that one time would hurt."

"You idiot!"

"I'm sure that there's nothing that the two of you have to say that can't be heard by me as well." The king said icily, making both young men jump guiltily. "Well?" He addressed his son. "I'm still waiting for your explanation, which I'm sure will be fascinating."

"Well, it was an accident." Caspian said lamely.

"That's pretty obvious, isn't it?" King Philip said coolly. "Everything that you do is by accident. This time, your thoughtless, selfish action have brought the stain of scandal upon our family, our entire kingdom. What I want to know is what you're going to do about it."

"Um…well…" Caspian trailed off, shooting a hopeful glance at his cousin.

Lanston sighed and proceeded to bail his cousin out…again. "Sire, I'm sure the scandal can be averted. No one knows about this except the three of us and Lady Lydien. Lady Lydien's silence can be bought. She will, of course, have to be sent to a remote part of the kingdom so that her pregnancy may run its course, but that can be arranged."

King Philip slammed his fist down again. "That's not what I'm talking about." He roared. "I am disgusted, absolutely disgusted, that my own son would sink to such irresponsible, despicable behavior. Playing around with women of questionable virtue! What is this kingdom coming to? Is this the way a future king should comport himself?"

"Um…I…" The prince began.

The king held up a hand to forestall him. "No, I don't want to hear anymore. I have come to a decision, something that I should have done a long time ago." He pointed an accusatory finger at Caspian. "I want you safely married by the end of the month. Find a woman to marry or else I'll force you to marry Lady Lydien."

"The end of the month!" Caspian exclaimed, "How do you expect me to make such an important decision in just a couple weeks time?"

"Very well, I'll give you three months time. That should be enough time to send out the invitation to your wedding. And heed my words boy, you are going to be married at the end of the third month, even if I have to drag you to the altar in chains." King Philip leaned back in his chair with a complacent smile. "Just to show you that I really do mean for your future happiness, I'll give three balls and invite all the eligible young ladies of the seven kingdoms. Surely, even you could pick out someone from that bunch."

"But I…"

"I want no arguments. The invitations to the balls have already been sent out. You are dismissed."

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**Author's Note:** So, what did you think? Review, review, and review. And tell me which summary is best. (There's a different one at the beginning of each chapter.)

**Review Replies:**

**kyra-maRia - **That would be telling, but this chapter should give you a big hint.

**aureusangel **- Sorry about the mistakes. I'll fix them as soon as possible. I would make Anoira a little less perfect, but her resemblence to her mother is a major story plop. I'm hoping to put some character flaws in shortly.

**darkgem499** - Are you sure? I may still have a few surprises up my sleeves.

Also thanks to **Tiger Lily21, biancarobinson, **and** RockStarGoddess** for their reviews.


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